by Dale Brown
“Heck yes, I’m interested!” Brad exclaimed. “I’ll start the online course tonight.”
“The best news: hours as second-in-command time in the Excalibur count toward your ATP rating,” Hoffman added. “That’s ten hours per one-way ferry sortie from Battle Mountain to Guam, and if we fly you back on a company airplane and you get stick time on the return, you get more hours. Plus in the XB-1 you get to observe air refueling from the right seat—and if a willing pilot wants to give you some stick time, even behind a tanker, I wouldn’t object.”
“Cool!” Brad cried out happily. “Thank you, Colonel! I’ll knock this course out right away. What an opportunity! Thank you!”
“You deserve it,” Hoffman said. “The XB-1 will definitely water your eyes.”
256TH SUBMARINE SQUADRON HEADQUARTERS, KAOHSIUNG, REPUBLIC OF CHINA
A FEW WEEKS LATER
“Try it? Absolutely I will, sir!” Shàngxiào (Captain) Yao Mei-Yueh replied excitedly. The young, short, slender officer had been standing at attention in front of the commanding admiral of First Naval District South of the Zhongguó haijun gònghéguó, or Republic of China Navy, Zhōng jiàng (Vice Admiral) Wu Jin-ping, but after being asked a simple question by the admiral, he could hardly contain himself. “I was afraid we would appear as if we were cowering in front of the Communists!”
“As you were, Captain,” the admiral said, barely containing a smile. A few seconds after Yao snapped back to attention, he ordered him to stand easy, and Yao snapped to parade rest. “This is serious business, Captain. Patrols have spotted the Zheng He carrier battle group just one hundred and seventy-five kilometers to the south. They have so many patrol planes up that they are disrupting the wind patterns.”
“It does not matter, sir,” Yao said. “The Avenger’s gold crew is the best attack submarine crew in the world. We have four successful simulated torpedo attacks on their ships in the past year, including one on the Zhenyuan. We have never been detected.”
Admiral Wu liked confident, even cocky young officers, and Captain Yao was all that and more, which was why he was standing there this morning. “I know your operational record well, Captain,” Wu said. “This too will be a simulated attack on their battle group, first with simulated torpedo-launched Harpoon missiles fired within fifty kilometers of a ship, and then with torpedoes fired within ten kilometers of an escort . . .”
“Allow me to do a simulated attack on the Zheng He itself, sir,” Yao interrupted. Wu was not accustomed to being interrupted by a junior officer, and he was about to lash out, but Yao went on: “There would be nothing better than publishing an image of the Zheng He in my periscope crosshairs all over the world over the Internet!”
“This is not a game of taking embarrassing pictures of your children at their birthday party, Captain,” Wu said angrily, although he certainly liked his spirit, and he had to admit that was a good idea. “We want to gauge their search patterns, study their acoustic patterns and sonar frequencies, and gather as much data as we can on their patrol activities.” He paused, then nodded and smiled. “And yes, publishing a picture of their new carrier in the crosshairs of a Taiwanese submarine would certainly be welcome.”
“My pleasure, sir,” Yao said. “I promise a nice picture for your wall.”
“Just keep your attention focused on the task at hand, Captain,” Wu said. “I want your submarine back in one piece a lot more than I want a photo on my wall.”
“Do you believe the Communists would really attack if they detected us, sir?” Yao asked, his voice a lot more concerned now.
“Assume that they will, Yao,” Wu replied. “They are definitely acting more aggressive within the first island chain, although they have not attacked anyone except that American survey vessel.”
“And the Vietnamese frigate, sir.”
“There is no direct evidence that the frigate was hit by a Chinese missile,” Wu said, “although that is what everyone suspects. Assume they will attack if you are detected, and bring your ship back in one piece.” He stood from his desk, and Yao snapped to attention. “Good luck, Captain.”
“Shì haijun, shàng jiàng,” Yao said. “Yes, Admiral.” He saluted the admiral. Wu returned his salute, and the young officer departed.
Wu’s aide came into the officer a moment later. “The orders, sir?”
“Publish the orders immediately, all secure channels,” Wu said. He signed a piece of paper and then handed it to his aide. “The Avenger will be under way within twenty-four hours. Deploy the normal decoys and have the usual false radio broadcasts made.”
“Yes, Admiral,” the aide said, then departed.
In the outer office, the aide signed a custody log for the orders, added the verbal orders issued by the admiral, and then gave the orders to his runner. “Take these orders to Cryptology and have them coded and broadcast immediately,” he said. The runner signed the custody log and then placed the orders in a briefcase, and the aide locked it himself. Only he and the officers in charge of the various offices in headquarters that handled classified documents had the combination to that briefcase. The runner departed.
In Cryptology, the briefcase was opened by the duty officer and hand-carried to the first available encoding technician. Two computer programs were used in every encoding process. The first program generated the keys that were embedded in the preamble of the coded message and would be used at the other end to decrypt the message, and the second program used the keys to encode the message, which came out as a long string of numerals. The key generation program used a combination of the date-time group, originating author, recipient, and a random number generator of varying numbers of digits to create a key sequence, which was then passed to the second program so it could begin the encoding process. The computer doing the key generation and encoding was not connected to any other network, so it was impossible for hackers to intercept the key sequence. The key generation was invisible to the technician: all he saw was an error-checking readout that read the key sequence and computed a bit count that was either correct or incorrect. It was not possible to hack the computer itself, so the key sequence generation was totally secure . . .
. . . but inputting the parameters of the key sequence generation on a keyboard and displaying the bit count on the computer monitor could be hacked, and in fact it had been done many months earlier by agents of the People’s Liberation Army Navy. The regular secure keyboard and monitor had been replaced by unsecure but identical-looking machines that transmitted each keypress and every character on the screen, where agents outside the building could record the information. If the parameters going into the key generation were known, once the hacker received the bit count it was relatively simple for a fast computer to reverse the key sequence generation process and acquire the key sequence. Once the key sequence was known, any message transmitted using that key could be read with ease almost as quickly as the proper recipient could.
This was how, in less than two hours, the information on the planned movement of the submarine Avenger had made its way to the People’s Liberation Army Navy South Sea Fleet headquarters.
PEOPLE’S LIBERATION ARMY HEADQUARTERS, BEIJING, PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC OF CHINA
A SHORT TIME LATER
“What did you say, Admiral?” Colonel General Zu Kai thundered. “Repeat!”
“It is confirmed, sir,” Vice Admiral Zhen Peng, commander of the South Sea Fleet, responded. “The Taiwanese are planning to deploy an attack submarine in the South Sea in order to directly challenge your newly imposed restrictions and stalk the Zheng He carrier battle group. They are purposely going to flout your orders. They are even planning on taking periscope photographs of Chinese ships and want to publish them on the Internet to prove that the restrictions are meaningless to them and to insult you and our entire country.”
“How did you learn of this, Zhen?” Zu asked.
“I have a network of spies in the headquarters of the First Naval District in Kaohsiung,” Zhen
replied. “It has managed to infiltrate their computers to a very high degree. It provides us with very actionable intelligence.”
General Zu looked at his deputy, Major General Sun Ji, who was listening in on the secure telephone conversation on a dead extension. The concern on Sun’s face matched his own. “I knew nothing about this spy network of yours, Zhen,” Zu said. “The Reunification Support Bureau of the Military Intelligence Division handles espionage work against Taiwan. Fleet admirals do not run spy networks. One incompetent move by one of your so-called spies could unravel the work of thousands.”
“My apologies if I have exceeded my authority, sir,” Zhen said. He did not sound truly apologetic in the least. “But my network has been in place since I took command of the South Sea Fleet, and it has provided the People’s Liberation Army with much actionable intelligence without any hint of being discovered. I will of course dismantle the network if you order it, sir, but I request that you allow it to continue.”
“Stand by, Zhen,” Zu snapped. He put the call on hold. “Zhen has been running a spy network in Taiwan and hacking their computers without my knowledge?”
“He is indeed a resourceful and aggressive officer, sir,” Sun commented.
“He could have hacked into my computer network for all I know!” Zu growled. “I should have the man shot!”
“It might be better if you allow him to continue, with your approval,” Sun said, “until we can scan our system and try to trace any hacker trails back to him.”
“ ‘Hacker trails’?”
“Hacking a computer network is very much like breaking into a home, sir,” Sun explained. “Even the best burglar always leaves some evidence that he has been there. If Zhen tried to hack our system, we will find it. But if you have him arrested before we can do the back-trace, the network will dissolve. We do know he has managed to infiltrate the Taiwanese encryption service, and they have some of the best cybersecurity in the world.”
Zu thought for a moment, then nodded assent. “But I want the back-trace to begin immediately,” he said. “I want to know the origin of every attempted infiltration of our systems.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zu hit the hold button again. “Very well, Admiral. I was at first upset that one of my fleet admirals was engaging in unauthorized activity, but the information your network has obtained is indeed valuable, and so now I will authorize it. Just do not allow your network to be discovered.”
“Yes, sir,” Zhen said. “Thank you. I have a suggestion on what to do about the Taiwanese submarine, sir.”
“No suggestion is necessary, Admiral,” Zu said. “The acting president and I have issued our orders: anyone violating the restrictions within the first island chain is subject to detention or attack. Those orders have not changed.”
“Yes, sir, I understand,” Zhen said. “But the nature of the attack should be dramatic and leave no doubt that China means to defend and control the waters within the first island chain.”
“What are you talking about, Zhen?” Zu asked.
“I am referring to the BLU-89E, sir,” Zhen said. “Kepà debo—‘Terrible Wave.’ The weapon is still in the inventory of the South Sea Fleet, and it can be deployed on the Y-8 antisubmarine warfare aircraft immediately, and later redeployed on the cruisers escorting the Zhenyuan and Zheng He.”
Sun immediately put down his receiver and accessed a computer terminal in a far corner of Zu’s office to look up what the weapon might be . . . and when he found it, his eyes bulged in surprise. He sent the page over to Zu’s computer, who appeared to be even more shocked. “Are you insane, Zhen?” he asked.
“The weapon was taken off our ships because the latest generation of torpedoes was much more accurate and higher performance,” Zhen said. “But the BLU-89E was standard armament for our cruisers for many years—we even deployed them to the Gulf of Aden with the Somalia task force. If the Nationalists want to openly and brazenly challenge the People’s Liberation Army Navy in our own waters, we should employ every weapon in our arsenal.”
The sense of shock that General Zu experienced at the suggestion was slowly waning. “Stand by, Zhen,” he ordered, and hit the hold button again. “Is he insane?” Zu murmured. “First his own spy network, and now he wants to deploy ‘Terrible Wave’? ‘Tiger’s Claw’ and ‘Silent Thunder’ are not enough for him?”
“Sir, we had deployed ‘Terrible Wave’ for the last ten years, on both ships and navy patrol aircraft,” General Sun pointed out. “Zhen is probably the best qualified commander in the entire navy on how to use them.”
Zu thought for a few moments, then picked up the receiver and punched the hold button off. “Authorized,” he said. “One weapon only. Report to me for permission to deploy the weapon first.”
“Acknowledged, General,” Zhen said.
Zu terminated the secure connection. “I had better tell Gao what I have in mind,” he said, rising from his seat. “I do not care what he thinks about it, but he ought to be prepared in case it really is employed.” He shook his head. “We are about to unleash Lóng Dehuxi;—the ‘Dragon’s Breath’— again,” he said to his deputy. “It was only seventeen years ago when my predecessor last unleashed it, and it has been only ten years since the Russians did so.”
“Sun Tzu said, ‘If your forces are superior, attack,’ sir,” General Sun said. “The Americans are weak and getting weaker by the day, while China is growing stronger every day. The Americans were attacked on their own soil by the Russians, and they did not retaliate with nuclear weapons. They are fearful and undecided. This is the perfect time to assert our authority.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Sir, I suggest you contact President Truznyev of Russia. If you want to maintain his cooperation and assistance in keeping the United States off-balance, Russia will be key.”
Zu nodded, lost in thought. A few moments later he picked up the telephone again. “Get me President Truznyev of Russia immediately, secure,” he ordered. He put down the telephone. “I hope they do not have any subs in the South Sea.”
A few minutes later the phone rang, and Zu picked it up. “Colonel General Zu, secure.”
There was a slight pause as the secure channel was locked on both ends, and then an unfamiliar voice said, “This is the voice of President Truznyev’s translator, General. The president says it is about time someone in Beijing told him what in hell was going on.”
“Tell the president thank you for returning my call,” Zu said.
“The president says that the rumors of a military coup are true.”
“There has been no coup,” Zu said. “Acting President Gao Xudong is in charge until President Zhou’s condition can be . . . further evaluated.”
“Indeed,” the Russian translator said. “Even so, I assume I am speaking to the de facto president of the People’s Republic of China. So. What can I do for you today, Mr. President—excuse me, Colonel General?”
“You are of course aware of the activities in the South Sea regarding the Americans and Vietnamese military.”
“Of course. Very intriguing. Your carrier battle groups obviously possess some advanced capabilities that our intelligence services have not yet revealed. Care to talk about them, General?”
“All will be revealed to you soon, Mr. President,” Zu said. “I called because China is prepared to take our struggle over control of the South Sea to the next level, and we are seeking Russia’s cooperation.”
“In what way, General?”
“The Americans have considerable forces in the Pacific region, and they have recently indicated they are prepared to augment those forces twofold to counter China’s deployments,” Zu said. “We know Russia’s resources in the Far East are limited, but not so in the West. If Russia activated its considerable military and economic influence in the West, America would realize their capability to respond to emergencies on two fronts on opposite sides of the planet are limited, and they could be stymied into inaction. America has fewer ships afloat
than any time since after the Vietnam War, and forcing them to respond to a second front in the west could force them to sue for terms to Russia as well as China.”
“America is no threat to Russia, at least in our own sphere of influence—namely, eastern Europe and central Asia,” Truznyev’s translator said. “Our work is already done. Russia does not need to dominate the South China Sea—in fact, limiting access to the South China Sea is not in our interests. You are not helping your cause with Russia by rattling sabers in the South China Sea, General.”
“We will do much more than rattle sabers, sir,” Zu said.
“Explain immediately, General!” Zu could hear Truznyev’s angry voice in the background, a dramatic difference from the emotionless, mechanical tone of the translator.
“Mr. President, China is today claiming all its historic and legal rights in the South Sea,” Zu said. “I am determined and honor-bound to lead my country in protecting and defending our rights to the inner island chain, and we will do whatever is necessary. I called you to inform you of my intentions and to ask for your support and assistance in this sacred endeavor.”
“I do not give a shit about your intentions or honor, Zu,” Truznyev’s translator said. Truznyev’s very loud voice was clearly discernible in the background, and it was obvious that it was made so. “I will put you on notice right now, you traitorous bastard: if one Russian sailor or airman even gets his hair tousled or has one meal interrupted by Chinese actions, I will drop a hundred megatons of nuclear warheads on your backwater country.”
“That was not my intention in the least, Mr. President,” Zu said. “I seek nothing but Russia’s cooperation in our endeavor. Our efforts are the same exactly, sir: the reduction or elimination of the American naval influence on all the world’s oceans. The United States Navy has a presence in every one of the world’s oceans; I want to limit that influence in regions that are vital to China, which include the South Sea, Straits of Malacca, and the Indian Ocean.”